


A Single, Silky Swallow

by bloomblood



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: College Student Peter Parker, Daddy Kink, Dom Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomblood/pseuds/bloomblood
Summary: Tony’s talented throat comforts Peter after a failed physics exam.





	A Single, Silky Swallow

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic has been backdated to match its original publication date[on tumblr](https://bloomblood.tumblr.com/post/185238839090/a-single-silky-swallow)._

The dorm room is blacked by loose drapes. Tony presses the door shut behind him, turns the lock, pulls off his cap and dark shades as he steps inside.

Peter—asleep or pretending to be—rises and falls as he breathes beneath an untucked pile of blankets. Tony stands by the bed to stare at the lump. He sighs. He places his things on the desk, then drops to a crouch.

“Peter.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

The voice comes snively; muffled. Tony reaches, touching whatever covered part of Peter this is by the edge. “You don’t want me to see you cry?”

_“No.”_

“But I’ve seen you cry, honey. I’ve made you.”

Peter sniffs. Tony takes a moment, himself. It’s been some time since they last had a moment like that, so stressed Peter’s been with grades and Spider-Man. Tony’s heart twists as he feels the loss between them. Understanding it doesn’t smother the hurt.

“I don’t want you to see—see me as a _failure_ ,” Peter croaks.

“A failure? Because of one physics test? Baby, you’re green. This is your first year—of college.”

“But you did it. You weren’t failing.”

“I also wasn’t a hero back then. I was 38 when I became Iron Man, Peter. Twenty years older than you are now.”

Peter pauses to sniffle. It’s sweet. Tony’s fist closes around a blanket.

“Can I see you? Can”— _Daddy_ —“I touch you?”

It doesn’t take any time for Peter to dig himself out of his nest. He reaches a sinewy arm to turn on the lamp clipped to his bed and swings out his legs.

Tony’s temperature jumps as Peter’s feet knock into his knees. He rubs Peter’s thighs, watching him scrub at his eyes and yawn and breathe and he’s so fucking soft, warm from the blankets and crying he’s done.

“Hi, baby.”

_“Daddy.”_

He catches Peter, whose arms rope around his neck. He rearranges his legs, now kneeled on the carpet, clutching his boy.

“You’ll do better,” Tony murmurs. He pets Peter’s back beneath his shirt. “Daddy’s sorry his baby boy is so upset.”

Peter presses his tear-slicked cheeks to Tony’s throat and the vulnerability of it makes Tony clench. Kissing Peter’s shoulder stirs a longing buried in Tony that’s now desperate to claw its way out of him.

Peter whimpers.

“Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Tony peels them apart to meet Peter’s gaze. “Tell Daddy why.”

“For not being what you need. Being present and just…me. For not being me.”

Peter swallows. Tony shakes his head and circles his hands around Peter’s waist, dragging the tips of his fingers along Peter’s sides.

“You’re everything I need. You’re still you. Daddy wants you to do so well in school. And do you know what else Daddy wants? Hm?”

Pressing his forehead to Tony’s, Peter’s voice is conspiratorially low. “What does Daddy want?”

“A kiss. But only if you miss Daddy. Do you?”

Peter nods. Under his lashes, Tony catches him as he’s wetting his lips.

“Show me.”

It’s tender. Peter’s lips are just a little chapped, sticking to Tony’s. His large hands mold around Peter’s ribs.

And then Peter licks him.

He licks into Tony’s mouth, tasting.

Tony’s chest rumbles—he’s so fucking pleased—and he sucks Peter’s lips before prying away.

Between them, Peter’s _Daddy’s Bitch_ boxing shorts sport a tent. Tony hadn’t noticed the words before, let alone had he known that Peter owned an announcement like this.

“You’re Daddy’s bitch?”

“Yeah….”

“Don’t be shy.” He kisses Peter. “Wanna show Daddy what’s inside them?”

Tony watches Peter, tracking his every emotion, every _tic_ , seeking a semblance of discomfort. There is none. Peter only blooms the loveliest pink in the glow of the lamplight, his teeth on his lip as he tugs down the band of his shorts.

A strand of pre-cum glimmers, bridging between his dick and the fabric.

“ _Look_ at you.”

Peter winces.

“You’ve always had the prettiest cock I’ve seen.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” His breath hitches before adding, “Please?”

“Please, what?”

“Can you…. Can you please suck me off?”

Tony feels his features become something dark—however brief—as he regards the plump head of Peter’s dick. It’s such a slender organ, longer than it’s thick, with a beautifully blended circumcision scar.

He snatches off his shirt with one hand and chucks it aside, then reaches his solid arms around Peter’s ass. His mouth covers Peter in a single, silky swallow. Peter shoves his hands in Tony’s hair.

He doesn’t mind this time when Peter bucks up into his throat, when his hips jerk and cause Tony to cough. He’s wanted Peter back _like this_ for two months and the kid can kill him for all he fucking cares.


End file.
